


What You Really Want

by elsa



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Bonding, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Geno POV, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsa/pseuds/elsa
Summary: “Sidney,” he said, during their next road trip. Sidney glanced up and moved aside for them. It was the first day after the initial shock had worn off, and he was still struggling.“So. We friends. Teammates. Why don’t you tell me this important thing?” He pitched his voice lower so others wouldn’t hear.“It’s not like I didn’t not say anything. I’m not in the closet about it or anything. Some people know, it’s not that secret.”“I wish you tell me.”Sidney hesitated. “Well, Geno. To be honest, I never told you, because i thought you knew.” He was looking at Geno closely, but Geno only felt confusion— how could he have possibly known? Sidney smiled a bit, and glanced away. “Well, never mind about it now.”





	What You Really Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xancredible](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xancredible/gifts).



> For momotastic, for these likes: soulbonds, omega verse, hurt/comfort, pining, & fake relationships

It had been a hard game earlier that evening, was the thing, Geno thought. And Sidney had gotten knocked into the walls a few times. They were in the hotel bar, one last nightcap, the teammates yawning, when Sidney had suddenly put his hand on his head and seemed to shiver.

“Sidney, are you alright?” Flower had asked.

“Oh — yeah, I’m fine. I mean, the doctor said I was alright.”

“You got a hit during the game,” he said, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah. I think I’m going to call it,” Sidney said. He got up, but still didn’t look great. Geno got up and took his arm and gave him a friendly hug. “Maybe you too much to drink, Sid,” he said cheerfully, “I go with you,” and said goodbye to their teammates, strongarming him into the elevator. “What’s your room?” he asked, punching in the number on the elevator.

It took a while for Sidney to fumble for the room key, and once they were inside his room, Geno touched Sidney’s forehead, and it felt a little hot.

“I think you have flu,” he said, frowning.

“Probably not,” Sidney said, but he was mumbling, even as Geno was trying to find ibuprofen, a glass of water, a thermometer to take his temperature, which was 101. He moved, thinking of calling a doctor; Sidney, who was on the bed and looking supremely uncomfortable, pulled him near him, mumbling, “No, I need you here.”

He must be really off, Geno thought, or thinking of something else. But Geno was already on the bed anyway. Sidney was asleep within minutes, and Geno was tangled up and didn’t want to move for fear of waking him. And — well — it had been a long day. Sidney will feel better, they’ll laugh about this tomorrow. He’ll just rest here for a few minutes, and then...

When he blinked his eyes open, he was lying next to Sidney, and the dark sky was just beginning to turn light outside. He’d slept far longer than he thought. Geno gently disentangled himself and quietly crept out, shutting the door kindly behind him. 

.

Sidney didn’t get better right away, and he actually missed a game later. A dynamics thing, someone said; they’re adjusting it. Sidney had just gotten back from another injury so it was natural to have side effects. But the first thing he thought of something wrong was when Sidney skated next to him in the game after that, and he felt a frisson of awareness, tracking him spacially across the room, and not forgetting where he was when they were in a crowded room together.

If he was more conscious of Sidney after that, he didn’t notice, or ignored it. But a couple weeks later, once they had gone back to Pittsburgh, the news was splashed over the tabloids.

“SIDNEY CROSBY, HOCKEY STAR, SECRET OMEGA

Is the star hockey player of the Penguins franchise hiding his dynamics? Reports are saying he’s been seen at medical centers specializing in secondary biology, and that he has switched suppressants after his head injury last year. Several weeks ago, a security camera in the hotel captured these exclusive images...”

Jen passed the magazine at Geno. They were in her office, Sidney sitting in the chair next to him, looking as shocked as Geno felt. It was a fuzzy hotel camera pictures, and it showed Geno and Sidney entering a room in the hallway, Geno with his arm around Sidney, and Geno leaving at — Geno grimly checked the timestamps — 5am.

“I assume you know how this looks,” Jen said. She had called them into the office early that morning; now she was at her desk, holding an enormous cup of coffee.

“I —.” Geno’s mind felt slow and fuzzy. He turned to Sidney. “You’re a secondary?” He’d hardly been allowed to even talk to omegas, back in Russia. America was a bit more liberal about the secondary gender, and omegas were allowed in the NHL, but it was still quite rare.

Sidney’s expression darkened. Now that Geno was looking closer to him, he noticed more feelings besides, roiling under the surface.“I’ve been on top-flight suppressants for years, the doctors know it. I’m not ashamed of it or hiding it. I just don’t see how this is relevant.”

“It’s newsworthy because people think you had a heat and Geno’s leaving your hotel room at 5am,” Jen said. “I’m sorry, Sid, but there it is.”

“Geno’s not even involved in this,” Sidney said. He looked pale with anger, but that wasn’t what Geno was feeling.

“Alright,” Jen said slowly, but Geno could tell she didn’t believe them. He looked at the article again. There were other pictures of them there too — walking out and about in a park, and one where Geno had his arm around Sidney’s shoulders, Sidney looking tolerant. One snapped at night outside a bar where he looked like he had fallen asleep on Sidney and Sidney had his hand on Geno’s hair. If they had been two alphas it would never have made a difference, but if Sidney was an omega, it seemed to have a different context. He didn’t even remember that time, he must have been drunk. He couldn’t believe Sidney tolerated this behavior from him for years.

“Look,” Jen said. “I’m not going to make a press announcement about your gender; that’s irrelevant, you’re playing as well as you’ve ever been. But the board is going to be on our case about these pictures, and it’s a bad look. So I’ll issue a response saying that you and Geno are dating.”

“Wait — what?” Geno said, at the same time Sidney said, “I don’t—“

Jen gave them both a thunderously annoyed look.

“Have Geno take you out on a few dates,” Jen said, snapping the binder shut. “We’ll do it for a few months. This will be considered an invasion of privacy rather than two opposite genders fooling around after games. And stop being photographed outside each others’ hotel rooms.”

“We aren’t,” Sidney said, “and it’s not like I care about myself, but it’s not — it’s not fair to Geno.”

Geno wanted to die. He wanted to eject from this entire situation, but he was still feeling what Sidney felt and it was messing with his head. Jen and Sidney were still talking, not raising their voices but getting gradually more intense. He finally interrupted.

“Sidney,” he said. “It already happened. It’s just for few months. We go out, let fans take pictures. No one pays attention after that, like Jen said. It’s fine.”

Sidney stared at him and seemed, for the first time, uncertain. “And you’re okay with that, G?”

“As long as you do press conference,” Geno said, feebly joking.

When Jen had kicked them out of their office, and he found himself in an empty hallway on a Saturday morning, there was a long pause. Sidney seemed fine, measured, but he felt strange.

Sidney seemed to steel himself and make a decision, and turn to him.

“G, I— there’s something I need to tell you. I…”

Oh, god. Geno felt like he’d heard enough for one day. He said, “Tell me later. We have another problem.” He’d just realized when they were in the office together, and Sidney was arguing with Jen; even though he was trying to deny what his own senses were telling him. “Sidney. I can feel you.”

A lot of things happened after that. The team doctor came in the room and poked Geno a bit, and talked to Jen. There was a lot of talk that flew over Geno’s head — he still wasn’t great at fast spoken English. After confirming that he could, in fact, feel what Sidney was feeling across two rooms, and waiting anxiously, the doctor shut his file folder.

“Just a mild case of bond proximity,” he said cheerfully. “It happens sometimes when suppressants fail, and you’re —“ he waved his hand. “It should wear off in a few months.” He said to Geno, “Sometimes the suppressants stop working, or need to be adjusted. We’ll try a different formulation for Sidney, it’s something we know about already.”

Geno felt incredulous, but didn’t protest, only giving a meaningful look to Sidney when he left the room. Sidney caught up with him in the locker room afterwards, which was deserted.

“I’m sorry this happened, G. It’s not your fault...”

Geno felt like rolling his eyes. “Not your fault either, Sid. Maybe my fault, you know? We do what Jen says, will be over in a few months.” He added, “We around each other all the time, I don’t notice.”

“What — really?” Sidney said. Geno nodded.

“If that’s what you want,” Sidney said hesitantly.

“It’s fine,” Geno said.

.

It was not fine, G thought grimly. But he couldn’t stay mad at Sid for long. Besides, he got why Sidney would be discreet about it. It was no one’s business what he was like in bed, and stereotypes about genders still abounded in hockey. 

“Sidney,” he said, during their next road trip. Sidney glanced up and moved aside for them. It was the first day after the initial shock had worn off, and he was still struggling.

“So. We friends. Teammates. Why don’t you tell me this important thing?” He pitched his voice lower so others wouldn’t hear.

“It’s not like I didn’t not say anything. I’m not in the closet about it or anything. Some people know, it’s not that secret.”

“I wish you tell me.”

Sidney hesitated. “Well, Geno. To be honest, I never told you, because i thought you knew.” He was looking at Geno closely, but Geno only felt confusion— how could he have possibly known? Sidney smiled a bit, and glanced away. “Well, never mind about it now.”

As the bond strengthened, he could feel what Sidney was feeling, if they were close together, and it made him feel awful and hopeful at the same time.

He expected to hear jeering and teasing the next time they were in the locker room with the team about their new media relationship, and there was some of that, but it died down pretty quick.

“So — Jen said you had some news?” Tanger said to them.

“Yeah,” Sidney said evenly, not looking at Geno. He raised his voice, and said he had an announcement. “Geno and I are dating.” He said more: about how they wanted to keep it private, that it wouldn’t affect their game.

“Good show,” Suttsy said warmly.

“Thaks for telling us, we didn’t know.”

“I mean it was in a magazine.”

“I’m surprised none of us realized this before.”

“Sidney very private,” Geno said. “Not want share anything.” Sidney shot him a look, and then said, “The suppressants I were taking interfered with the medication for my head injury last season; I guess it got out.”

“That kind of thing will pass quick,” Beau said. At that point, Downie started sharing a story about his ex for several heaven-sent minutes, at which point Geno finished changing and left the room to go work on stick handling exercises.

The suppressant issue was ongoing, and he and Geno had to go see the doctor together, mostly to see if the bond was gone from some new formula they were trying. It usually took a a few months to find the right formulation, they were informed. It was a good thing the bond had occurred when it did, otherwise it could lead to much more instability.

So it wasn’t like not having working suppressants was actively hurting Sid. In fact: Sidney was playing the best hockey of his life, scoring goal after goal in each game, being the subject of adulatory sports journalism, and bumping shoulders companionably with Geno after the press conferences, even though Geno could feel that he was tense, wound-up.

He couldn’t believe Sidney had hid it so long. It must have taken a lot of work. Geno watched him play hockey, his easy dominance on the ice, unbelievable plays, and Sidney was — so intensely private, hid his feelings, friendly hugs twice a year, after birthdays and winning games and championships. And he was on industrial strength suppressants and keeping a secret that would probably drive others insane. And he was hiding this from everyone. it made Geno feel so sympathetic, so he really is extra nice to Sidney after that, defending him to other people. Sidney smiled at him after one of the scores.

“Good game,” Sidney said, and squeezed Geno’s arm. A few alphas in the front row of the stands noticed, and shot Geno jealous looks.

He did what Jen suggested in the weeks following, and invited Sidney to get lunch with him, sharing small tables in dim cafes where a photograph would make it look like one of them was easily leaning forward for a kiss; or take walks along the river, watching Sidney gesture and talk about improbable hockey plays, and bump shoulders companionably. They went to the zoo with Duper and his wife and their kids. Sidney was really good with the kids, answering each question with admirable patience, goofing around, watching the penguins.

A few days later, it was a beautiful hot day out, and they were sitting outside. Sidney had just finished talking to Geno about new ideas for power skating drills and had gotten the check when they were recognized by passersby and stopped for autographs and photos.

“How’s it going, Sidney, Geno?” someone called out. “Congratulations!” Sidney, amazingly, went a little pink. He turned to Geno, and they had never touched or talked about this, but Geno obligingly put his arm around him and goofily squeezed his shoulder, smiling at him, his face a little in Sidney’s neck, like he’d kissed him.

It turned out that person was a cameraman who worked for TMZ. The clip played on blog posts on Twitter a few days later. They looked — good, they looked like they were in love.

“Sorry,” Geno said, reading the congratulatory message from Jen a day later, the video attached. “It’s my fault for do that.”

They were at the farmer’s market; he was watching Sidney be picky about vegetables. Around them, people around gave them benevolent looks — they thought they were a cute couple. Sidney paused. “About the video?”

“Yes.”

“It’s fine. Jen liked it, and we’re supposed to be doing things like that.” Sidney hesitated, and Geno thought he was going to say something, but instead he just sighed and picked up another orange and said, “I’m sorry. It’s just a few more months that we have to pretend.”

“What is doctor say?”

“I’ll have to wait a few weeks to tell if the new medication is working or not. They think the bond will wear off after that. And I’ll be,” Sidney paused, “back to normal.”

He was over several times a week at Sidney’s place. Sometimes Sidney wasn’t feeling well at odd moments; it didn’t happen often, but he had gotten used to putting his shoulder against his, or having Sidney make him dinner while he read a book. It helps Sidney feel better and it’s no big deal, really. They were friends. Omegas needed — more care, probably, and if Sidney needed help for a while, it seemed churlish to say anything, just because he’d liked him from that very first year. Just because it was close to what he wanted but really not what he wanted at all. 

“I think my levels are rising,” Sidney said, after dinner, when Geno was helping him wash the dishes. Geno’s arm accidentally brushed against Sidney’s, but Sidney didn’t move his arm away. Sidney turned and looked at him. “Probably by next week. I think I can still play but… I might say something. Because of the bond.”

Sidney was so tactful and controlled all the time; he couldn’t imagine. “What are you going to say? Don’t worry.” He added, “Maybe it won’t happen. They fix the bond soon.” Then Sidney will go meet someone nice who can help him with heats, and will probably be much more appropriate for him, with a good temper, really nice, probably Canadian, definitely not a fool like Geno.

.

Sidney had warned him, but the way it happened — after Geno was at his place, checking in on him, suggesting watching one of the Russian movies that he had smuggled in, seemed so easy, so natural.

“Move over,” Sidney said, trying to get comfortable, and Geno gave in. Afterwards, Sidney made him some coffee, and teased him about the movie a bit, and they talked for a while about a little and maybe nothing at all, the sound of the radio playing in the other room. At that moment, Sidney turned and gazed at him, and his heart stuttered to a stop. He couldn’t think through the pounding of his heart, blood rushing to his face; and then Sidney kissed him.

It was slow and leisurely; Sidney had done this, a lot, before. He swallowed the low noise that came up from his throat reflexively, and kissed him back; and then he remembered and pulled away.

“Sidney, no.”

“What’s the matter?” Sidney said softly. His voice seemed to imply that he knew everything about what Geno was thinking and feeling.

“Why you do this. We never do,” Geno said desperately.

“But Geno, I want to,” Sidney said; he threaded their fingers together, his voice dipped even lower and it sounded like he was about to say something they were both going to regret; it sounded like he was willing to beg for it, and Geno wanted to make him stop talking.

“Sidney. I can feel how much you wan† it. I can feel how much you’re unhappy, and this isn’t what you want really. If you were feeling normal you’d never have wanted this.”

Sidney stroked his hair. After a moment he said, “do you want to repeat that in English?” He trailed his hand through Geno’s hair, which felt intuitively, seductively pleasant, and then Geno gasped and stepped back and tried not to think about how his thigh felt pressed against Sidney’s.

“It’s bad idea.”

Sidney’s expression shuttered. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said after a moment. But Geno could feel how badly he wanted it, how ready for it he was, and the memory of feeling it made him heat up until he was about to boil over.

“I better go,” he said. He was shaken in the car, and when he turned the lights on back in his house across town he couldn’t help feeling that everything in that room was empty and stupid and pointless, and how Sidney looked like when he was kissed.

.

He tried to avoid Sidney for a few days, definitely until after the heat was over, and then felt like he needed to cool it for a few weeks. However, a week in, the doctors called him in for a consultation.

“The good news is the current formulation of suppressants is working well.”

“Oh. So, Sidney is better.”

“Yes, it also seems to be working well now. But it seems, Geno, like you’re still feeling some aftereffects,” Dr. Vyas said. “We’re going to try to give you something to block the rest of it in your system.”

He filled the prescription, the concoction tasted like nothing, or maybe a bit like coconut water — benign. “Give it a few hours and check back in with us,” Dr. Vyas said as he left the room.

Geno was embarrassed to find that he still looking for Sidney when he left, as if for permission; he hated the thought of coming back to the doctor to check, because they would ask him: do you feel anything now?

.

The last formulation seemed to have worked, and the bond disappeared as quietly as it came. Geno couldn’t feel Sidney’s emotions through the bond anymore, and Sidney said he felt fine, too — he was no longer suffering from headaches, and didn’t need to be around Geno.He gave him polite and friendly nods when he saw Geno now, but Geno couldn’t tell what he was feeling.

His house felt empty. It was around the break, and there were no games. Sidney sent him a text, thanking him, polite and generous. He had responded in a similar manner but couldn’t do anything more than that. He needed a few weeks to get over Sidney, and tell the team, but he couldn’t stop.

He had one more day in Pittsburgh, and he was leaving to travel and visit family. He put his earbuds in and went for a run in the early morning along the river, trying to work off the nervous energy, thinking: I’m going to start dating other people, a serious relationship; that would be nice. He didn’t notice the drops of rain at first, until it started raining, and then pouring, the kind of sudden intense storm that would turn icy if the temperatures dropped further.

There was a tidy looking store at the corner — books and stationary in the windows. He ducked inside, thinking to get some respite from the rain. He took off his drenched jacket, walked into the adjacent shop to wait and dry off while he found a cab to call, and Sidney was there.

He had a book in hand and was drinking water at a cafe table. He was wearing sleek jeans and a nice button down, as if he was going out to a stylish gallery opening or restaurant after this. Geno stopped. He himself was wearing jogging shorts and a battered jacket. His hair was very wet, and he felt raindrops on his face.

“Geno,” Sidney said in surprise, and stood up. It was raining so hard that you could hear it through the windows and on the roof.

“Hi, Sid,” he said, walking quickly up to the wall to lean against it and trying not to look like he was secretly stalking his teammate.

“It’s uh,” Sidney gazed at Geno’s outfit. “It’s good to see you. I was thinking of finding you. Are you training?”

“I do run, but here to get out of rain. I call cab soon.”

“I’m just about to leave here,” Sidney said. “Why don’t I give you a ride home? My car’s nearby.”

Geno wavered. Sidney looked — good, almost good enough to bring home and rub up like a boyfriend. “Am I interrupt you with something?” he asked, buying time. “You look nice.”

“I’m not going anywhere in particular,” Sidney said easily. “I just like this shop, it has good spots for reading. Come on,” and of course, Geno followed him, as if pulled not by his own will.

Sidney spoke pleasantly about their training schedules and holiday plans when they were in the car, never talking about what must not have been far from both their minds. He pulled the car up to Geno’s driveway, and put the car in park. After that, Geno felt that it was almost necessary to invite him in for a coffee. Sidney settled into Geno’s kitchen table as he turned on the espresso machine, looking as handsome and comfortable as a cat. Geno tried to focus and wondered how to bring up this topic.

“Sidney,” he said, while at the same time Sidney said, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

“I wanted to thank you these last few months,” Sidney said. “For... everything. For helping me.”

“I don’t help.” His frustration and exhaustion seemed to bubble up to the surface. “It’s not good, Sid.” Sidney watched him, looking pale, and then he stood up and walked closer. They were at the counter, frothy milk and fresh espresso lying forgotten under the machine.

“God, that kiss,” Sidney said, “I can’t remember much, I’m sorry, I know you didn’t...”

“I wanted it,” Geno said. “All. Dating. Kissing. Watch penguins at zoo with Duper.”

“But we never.” Sidney had stopped talking, stopped breathing, just looking at Geno. Geno looked away; he was completely red, flushing, his pulse beating in his throat.

“I try to stop,” Geno said. “That’s what I want to say.” He was messing this up, but he was trying to say this the best way he knew how.

There was a long, and to Geno excruciating, silence. He was waiting for Sidney to say, that’s fine; or — okay thanks; or I don’t feel... but Sidney just said, hoarsely and softly, “Don’t try anymore.” Then he pulled him close, and kissed him. It was a different kiss — soft, chaste, but Geno pulled away anyway, reflexively.

“Sidney.” They didn’t fix him, he thought frantically.

“I’m fine, Geno, there’s nothing wrong with me,” Sidney said. “I’m not in heat, I’m not bonding with anyone.”

“But you were bonding. When you even realize? You’re not date anyone for years.”

“From the beginning of this all. That hotel.” He caught Geno’s eye and added, “and maybe two or three years before that.”

He was so much trouble.

“You never tell me.”

“You didn’t notice,” Sidney said, “Well, I didn’t let you.” He let go of Geno’s hand and stood, just a little ways away, waiting. “Come here, G,” he said softly, and Geno did.


End file.
